Glory Written In The Dust
by mirrorOfsin
Summary: It was over and there was no glory. Only the blood that was drying in the dust which the wind would soon blow it away. Arthur, Mordred, Morgan. Battle of Camlann.  Arthurian legend


Requested by babydracky (LJ)

Arthur, Morgan and Mordred – Camlann

Glory Written In The Dust

The sun was cold in the wintery grey sky, lying low under thickening clouds. All he could hear was the dull clash of sword against sword and the dying cries of men dimmed under the sound of his blood roaring in his ears. He was tired, so very tired, and he longed to rest, just for a moment. His armour was heavy and he was perspiring underneath all the protective layers. He raised his sword to fend off another blow from yet another attacker, his blade seared through flesh and bone and as he yanked back, the body toppled to the side. On and on the bodies came and fell, blood seeped and watered the upturned earth beneath their feet.

It was his stillness against all the motion around that gave him away and he turned, heading towards him and his inevitable fate. The only thing he was sure of was that, today, whether in a few minutes or hours still to come, this would all end. He yanked off his helmet, seeing clearly the boy that copied his action. For a moment he wished that he hadn't. The face was painful to look upon, the face of a boy – barely a man – who looked so much like them – his mother and himself.

"Father," the boy said, his voice hard and laced with mocking contempt.

"Mordred," he said heavily. His was exhausted and wiped away trickle of sweat with the back of his hand. It was then that he saw his skin covered with blood, mud and everything he couldn't bear to think about.

"Giving up father?" his son mocked, swinging his sword in his hand idly as if it was a toy.

He had no idea, he thought to himself gravely, no idea how much it takes to keep swinging that sword.

"Is she here?" he asked and his son gave him a curious glance before he made a small, curt nod.

He had thought as much, he could sense her hovering somewhere amidst the outskirts of battle. Something in the corner of his eyes flickered and he thought he glimpsed the silhouette of a woman by the trees. Mordred caught his look and grimaced a little before tightened his grip on the hilt and drew up his stance.

"Father," he said again and Arthur lifted his sword in return.

"Son," he replied and swung the blade.

/x/

Daylight would soon die and night would have its turn in the heavens. Though the stars would shine alone, she thought glancing up briefly. She moved silently through the trees, her strides long and she barely touched the ground as she flitted through the forest. It was ending, she felt the change in the light breeze and as she slowed, reaching the outskirts of the forest, so too did the battle. Except for the two figures that she watched now from afar. Their battle had only just begun but she knew it would not last long.

Her son and her brother (her one time lover) danced with Fate and Death on their sides. She came closer still, concealing herself in the mist she drew up around to cloak them. She watched as their swords came down and down again, the familiar clang ringing in her ears. He was tired, she could see that in the way he barely missed his son's attack. Her son, their son, had saved his strength for this moment and was wearing his father further down.

"Is that all father?" she heard Mordred call out scornfully and Arthur glanced again back to where she stood. He couldn't see her but sensed that she was there and for a single moment she let him glimpse her through the mist.

"Morgan…" he whispered and her breath momentarily caught in her chest, her heart jolting. A shiver passed down her spine and she realised then how long and how much she had wished to hear him speak her name. Her eyelids fell close and in her blindness she saw him, golden and glowing and aching for her in exactly the same way she ached for him.

"_Arthur…_"

/x/

He felt alive, there was fire in his blood and every time he made a strike he felt a small thrill pass through him. This was his moment, his glory to fulfil and the tales that would be told would be magnificent and he would bask in them. His mother had told him ever since he could remember that this was his destiny. To slay the father that he had never known other that than in the tales he heard. They were wondrous tales, told by a troubadour with shining eyes and breathless speech and enticed the listener remark on their extraordinary king. But he never did that, he listened to his mother's tales and his eyes darkened, his heart hardened and he cursed his name.

He eyed the man that would die not before long and then the mist that surrounded them. He would do this for her, he thought looking over to where he knew she stood watching. Through him she would have her own triumph.

"You can stop this, Mordred."

But he just laughed, the sound harsh and strained even to his own ears.

"Yes father, but only with your death," he replied and his aim was fast, catching his father off guard. Arthur stumbled and Mordred saw his moment to strike. "Goodbye father."

He swung and his blade pierced through. A direct hit.

/x/

It was searing, an invasion of metal into his body and white light blinded him as his knees gave way.

/x/

He smiled as triumph glowed in his eyes as he watched the blood of his father dripped from his sword. Then his smile froze, his lips parted in a silent gasp that never came. Only blood replied. His blood, their blood, seeped out of their wounds onto the ground.

/x/

She shut her eyes and the mists fell away slowly. Fate played her hand and Death claimed her son. It was over and there was no glory. Only the blood that was drying in the dust which the wind would soon blow it away.

_Fin._

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><p><strong>AN:** Reviews are welcomed!


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